Her Lord Duke
by DramioneInLove
Summary: "Very witty, Granger.You are going to put your pretty little hand into that social climber's full purse of yours and reimburse me." "I might just. However, do I not hear well anymore, or did you just say that I have pretty little hands?" "If you heard that somewhere in this discussion, Granger, then I confirm your suspicions about your damaged hearing." Regency-Era Dramione.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is an old project, but a new story. It is a Regency-era Dramione, with the use of magic. I hope you like it, and if ever anyone wishes to betae my works I would be more than glad, as my beta has left Fanfiction for a while.**

**Thanks for reading, and please review.**

**...**

"I shall not, Father! You will not force me!"

The young woman scowled, stomping her foot in a very unladylike manner, and two more curls burst out of her coiffure, surrounding her pretty, heart-shaped face.

The man across her, fidgeting quite nervously in a seat, fingered his glass of Whisky and replied tiredly,

"But you must, my dear. This is the only way to assure you a good marriage."

Hermione Granger wrinkled her nose and frowned at her father.

"It is not! I assure you that Lord Ronald Weasley would be more than happy to marry me."

"He might be, indeed, but I have yet to hear an offer from the young man or his estate. Time is running out, dear. Do you know that you happen to be one of the last of your promotion from Hogwarts Academy for the Noble and Grand of the Magical Gifted to be without fiancé?"

Hermione offered her father a withering stare.

"Well, in that case, you shall hear from Lord Ronald. And if not, then I might admit to start considering the possibility of wedding to Lord Cormac McLaggen. However, Father, may I add that Viscount McLaggen has the most dreadful manners, and appears to think of women as little more than swine."

Edward Granger gave his daughter a sharp look.

"Be very careful, Hermione. You are a Lady, and not a mere laundry washer. Please remember that the man you are speaking of is, after all, the only son and heir of one of the King's most valued friends. A marriage to Lord Cormac should have most of women swooning in joy. You are the only one foolish enough to not consider things this way. The only reason I even let you think about marrying the young Lord Ronald is because I value most of all your happiness, dear child."

Hermione's head drooped, ashamed. Indeed, she was not acting as a young lady should.

"I beg you to pardon me, Father. I suppose I am upset to learn that Lord Cormac may be my husband. But you are right. I shall marry him if Lord Ronald does not beat him to the fact. I must think of the future of our household."

Baron Edward Granger smiled softly to his only child.

"Well said, dear. Now, please, off with you. After all, I do believe that Lord Ronald, as well as the duke and duchess of Godric's Hollow are to come today."

Hermione's face lit up immediately, and she applauded sweetly:

"Yes, Father! We are to go to the theatre. Tonight is the very first performance in London of the famous _Orion et Auriga_ by the talented Sir Delacour. It is said that his daughter, the beautiful Fleur Delacour herself, plays Auriga. Oh, how wonderful! Paris went absolutely mad for the show. I must leave, Father, to prepare."

She kissed him on the cheek and left, leaving Edward chuckling. However, as soon as Hermione was in her bedroom, she sank down upon her bed, thinking and thinking hard.

Hermione Jean Granger was the only daughter of Edward and Jean Granger. Her father was an old soldier, and, especially, an extremely rich man who held the British universe of Healing in his hands. Very talented, he had started out as the third son of an apothecary, and had travelled the world, discovering plants and remedies that he had sold in solid amounts of gold upon his return. He has opened apothecaries of his own, and gained power and money until becoming one of the richest and most influent men of the country. He had met Jean Hopper when travelling to North America. She was the daughter of a powerful Governor, and it had been love at first sight. Gov. Hopper had gladly given his child to wed to this rich English man, and in return, had made his son-in-law enter higher circles. Hermione was born, and sadly, they did never have more children, but the girl was so lively, intelligent, loving, that they did not regret never having a son.

As it turned out, the child was a witch, and even though they planned sending her to Durmstrang School for the Magically Gifted or to Beauxbâtons Institute for Young Witches and Wizards, Edward and Jean were made Baron and Baroness by King Cornelius and Queen Amelia when she went ten, thanks to the fact that Edward, already an acquaintance of Their Majesties, managed to save the youngest of their children, Princess Susan, who was their daughter's age, of Dragonpox.

So, in a few years, the Grangers managed the immense feat of becoming astoundingly rich, members of nobility, and world-known Healers.

Becoming noble permitted them to send Hermione to Hogwarts, a British wizarding Academy reserved to the _crème de la crème_, meaning only nobility or children whose parents had a special charge within the royal household.

Hermione soon proved that she was, indeed, the daughter of her parents. One term out of seven years in the school were enough to show that, though muggle-born, new rich and new noble, grandchild of a simple apothecary, she had her place in the world. Excessively intelligent, she was Valedictorian every time, getting up to one hundred and sixty-two percent of success in exams, and was known as Cleverest Witch of her Age. Valedictorian was a word coming from the Americas, designing the top-graded students, as her dear mother had been. Apparently, North American high schools were becoming of quite a good quality. Most people thought very highly of her because, not only was she clever, but she had great qualities: perfect virtue, a nice character, courage, sensibility, and she was a helpful, respectful girl without spite or nastiness of any kind. She did lack, however, a few things, such as diplomacy or forgiveness, and just wouldn't be bothered with social relationships and duties. She hated curtsying to people she didn't like, or speaking sweetly to such people _par exemple_.

Hermione was a pretty girl, not a stunning beauty by any means. She was not very tall, and had pale skin, often a healthy pink, with a spatter of freckles across the nose, otherwise flawless. She had a heart-shaped face that was considered as delicate, with a small, pretty, turned-up nose, pouty, heart-shaped red lips, and big, amber, doe eyes. She had perfect, white teeth like pearls. Her hair must have been the best or the worst depending upon the side of things: best, since it gave a wild look to her tamed, small features, and worst, because it was very difficult to hairdress. She kept it flowing past her shoulders, not too long nor short, and it was composed of rather thick curls that made beautiful ringlets but not an easy coiffure for everyday lifestyle. They were silky, though, and of a warm chestnut color with golden streaks.

Hermione Granger was not your breath-stealing beauty, but was pretty enough to make men look at her, and she certainly had appeal. Her freshness and her love of life gave her a gorgeous figure, healthy and different from all those nineteenth-century young women like her but who tried their best to use makeup and dress up like dolls so that men would consider them beautiful.

However, Hermione's mind was far from her looks or her personality, since she was thinking about Lord Cormac McLaggen.

She knew from Hogwarts that the man was very good-looking, with dull blond hair and expressive brown eyes, and that women lined up to throw themselves at him. Not like he refused, though. Cormac had been known to get himself in quite a mess several times, duelling out by wand or by sword if the deceived husband was Muggle, and if that did not suffice, then King Cornelius often gave him the royal pardon, since Cormac's Uncle was an old friend of his. The man was actually twenty-one, a year more than Hermione, and had inherited everything after his parents' tragic death seven years ago when they burnt to death in a country house of theirs. Thus, Cormac was the actual Viscount McLaggen, very researched by mothers searching to marry off their daughters.

And Cormac had come that morning knocking upon Edward's door to propose for her hand.

Hermione really hadn't seen it coming. She knew that Cormac had an interest in her, that much was obvious from their Hogwarts years. But since he had graduated she had never seen him, only heard of him in their shared social circles. Then again, Cormac was interested in every woman with a pretty face and a nice body, so Hermione hadn't given it that much thought.

Cormac hadn't even asked to see her, hadn't given the least sign of wanting to court her. No, he had just skipped along that morning, while she was off horseriding in the countryside, and had asked Lord Edward.

It was extremely impolite, and though it could happen from time to time, Hermione was very suspicious about Cormac's proceedings. Something had obviously pushed him to inquire of her hand, but what? A man didn't hurry in such matters without having something spearing him and though at the moment, Hermione loathed the Viscount, she was curious to know just what.

Of course, her father had been over himself in joy. Indeed, it must be rewarding for the son of an obscure apothecary to give his daughter away to a rich, influent man such as Cormac, who had an Uncle in the King's best books and every hope in the world. Hermione could understand that, and she loved her parents enough to marry the disgusting ladies' darling if that may make them proud. Lord Edward, though, respected her enough to have told the Viscount that he would first ask her instead of promising her hand straight away.

Lady Hermione Granger was, however, a woman in love. And a woman in love could hate forced marriage even more than a woman without a heart-throb.

Since she was no more than thirteen or fourteen, Hermione was pining for one Earl Ronald Weasley. The man was one of her best friends, and issued of one of the best families of the country, though, as all Weasleys, he was as poor as a church mouse. Hermione didn't care about that, though. She loved him, was the only heir of one of the greatest fortunes in Britain, and he had an excellent, Pure-blood pedigree. She wanted him and only him.

She even loved him enough to pretend not to mind when he started a relationship with one Lady Lavender Brown, Baroness. Of course, their relationship only went as far as morals, that meant no more than a few kisses and brief hugs, but still. They weren't in such a relationship since years now though, and if Hermione had never once kissed him, at least she knew he loved her, as he had already told her so. However, she wondered if he would propose anytime soon.

Well, as it went, tonight she would be off to the theatre with Ronald, and his sister, Lady Ginevra, who had married her long-loved Duke Harry Potter last spring. They were great friends, and would be chaperoned, of course, by the couple, which was a good thing, since Lord and Lady Potter tended to mind their own business, knowing that their friends wouldn't bring shame upon anyone, and knowing how lovers could feel about social duties when not married.

Hermione stood up, and rung a bell. Soon, her two personal servants ran along to help prepare her. She preferred paying people to do the task than enslave creatures, such as house elves.

Miss Marietta Edgecombe scuttled in, her long blond mane tamed upon her head in the strangest way, and she curtsied quite curtly. Hermione raised an eyebrow. She should think about marrying Marietta away or proposing her curriculum to another family. She really didn't like the girl, who tended to snoop about for juicy information to sell to the nasty Argus Filch, house keeper. Her other servant was a kind lady, a married woman in her forties, named Porpentina Scamander, wife to the famous Newt Scamander. While Newt was a clever naturalist in his seventies, Porpentina gave her home a wealthy income by her perfect service to Hermione.

The two women prepared Hermione, chattering away. At the end, Hermione was wearing a beautiful crinoline royal blue dress, slitted to reveal powdery white skirts and small, velvet slippers. The dress was ornated with slivers of diamond, and had sleeves in the same white as her petticoat. The dress' top stopped just over her cleavage and under her shoulders, in a straight line. Her hair was done in shiny ringlets, with slivers of diamand and blue stone weaved in, and she wore a precious diamond necklace and matching earrings with the lightest ever makeup. She looked like a princess right from a seventeen-century romance novel. It was beautiful. She glanced in confusion to the good Mrs Scamader who shrugged it off:

"I knows dat de Mister Viscount cames ter propose today. And I knows dat Milady wants de good Lord Ronald ter propose instead, right? So I decided ter makes Milady irresistible."

"Oh, thank you so much, Mrs Scamader! And thank you as well, Marietta."

Marietta cast her a scornful look that Hermione pointedly ignored, before hugging Mrs Scamader and bouncing off to see her father.

When she entered the sitting room, Lord Edward was drinking brandy and dotting down notes in a tiny book, and Lady Jean was embroidering next to the fireplace. Her mother spotted her first and put the embroidery down, taking her glasses off and casting a warm smile to her daughter.

"You are gorgeous, my darling."

"Thank you, Mother..."

Edward looked up, bored, and instantly spat out his mouthful of brandy, half-choking, in a very unmanly way.

"You are not going in that dress, and with that heardressing, and...and...you are not going! You are far too beautiful," he screeched. "Go to bed!"

"Father!"

"Edward!"

Both women had shouted at the same time and the Baron cringed.

"Well, at least, I am sending four guards to chaperon you," decided Edward, lifting a bell.

"There shall be no need," assured Hermione, crossing her white gloved hands before her. "The Duke and Duchess shall be with us. You have the Duke's word of honor already, Father, that harm shall not reach me while under his care."

"I doubt men will wish to _hurt_ you when you are that pretty," muttered the Baron.

"Edward," exclaimed Lady Jean. "You are being insulting to Hermione as our daughter and as Baroness."

"Besides, Father," added Hermione not without cunning, "you are suggesting that I am divinely pretty tonight, which means that by normal times, you find me quite common, not to say ugly."

Edward seemed horrified by that.

"Of course not, dear! You are a woman of the most wonderful figure..."

"Then what changes? I shall be back at eleven o'clock."

"Sharp," insisted Edward.

"Sharp," she answered obediently, before kissing them both and leaving.

...

**A/N: Read and review, please.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for your lovely reviews. Here's chapter 2, which has been betaed by the very talented PurelyPoison. Any errors you might see in the text are mine.**

**I have made a little change to the story, based on PurelyPoison's idea: Hermione will no longer be considered here as baroness, for historical accuracy. She will be henceforth referred to as "Lady".**

**That's all for now, have a nice read!**

**...**

Harry Potter, the Duke of Godric's Hollow, was quite a fine man. The wedding between him and his true love, Ginevra Weasley, had been the event of the season last year and had left half of Britain's current maidens utterly heartbroken. He waited for Hermione next to the door of the carriage, drawn by eight black horses, showing through the simple action how much respect he felt for her. The only other people in the world for whom Harry showed such signs of respect were his wife and his mother-in-law, Lady Molly, second only to the Queen and the Princess. It was always good to have a man like Harry as one's friend; a hero along with his wife and best friends, Hermione and Ronald. After all, they had helped him ridding the world from a certain dark wizard.

His eyes widened upon seeing Hermione's beautiful demeanour and he smiled softly as she approached before taking her gloved hand to kiss it. "Milady," he saluted, not waiting for her to address him first as was customary by protocol. "You cut quite the figure tonight. I might have been advised to bring a few extra guards in order to protect you from all of the attention you will no doubt attract." Hermione rolled her eyes good naturedly and dipped into a mock curtsey.

"My Lord," she answered shortly, "may I impart upon you the knowledge that my Father has just addressed me in those exact terms, and here I was, assuring him that in your company I am quite safe from any uncomfortable attention." They laughed together and Harry helped her into the carriage, before jumping deftly inside himself and ordering to the coach driver to whip the horses to the London Royal Wizarding Theatre.

Inside, Hermione hugged the Duchess fondly, since she was one of her closest friends, before offering her hand to Ronald Weasley. She could not fail to notice how his eyes widened as he took in her chosen attire; she smiled softly, it seemed the dress was working its magic already.

"My Lord," she offered daintily. "It is a great pleasure to see you tonight."

"Milady," he replied dazedly.

She settled herself next to him as Harry took Ginny's hand. Ginny's eyes glittered.

"We have great news to announce," the beautiful redhead declared suddenly, sitting forward as she did so. "We shall tell only the two of you, as the official announcement shall be made in a fortnight." Ronald managed to snap his gaze to his young sister and Hermione raised an expectant brow.

Ginny squeezed her husband's hand, and declared, "We are pregnant! We are to have a baby!"

Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth to dampen her squealing as Ronald blushed in pleasure and leaned forward to shake Harry's hand. Hermione hugged Ginny close as Harry added that both of them were to be godparents. Hermione and Ginny then launched in a discussion about the best food that the future mother needed in order to have a boy while Harry and Ron grinned like idiots, thinking of all the whisky they would drink to celebrate.

"I am so very glad," concluded Ginny. "I cannot wait for you to be married and become a mother too, Hermione!"

Hermione instantly sobered and crossed her hands in her lap woefully as Ginny sent her brother a hopeful look.

"Hermione?" Ginny eventually said tentatively.

Lady Granger glanced up at her friends' expectant looks and she sighed dully, "This morning, Earl McLaggen asked my father for my hand in marriage."

A stunned silence fell upon the carriage. Hermione blinked back the tears now forming in her eyes, having spoken the words aloud finally.

"My Father said he would ask me but...oh, I have no wish to marry the Earl McLaggen! I do not want to become Countess of the McLaggen estate! What shall I do?" She broke down to sobs, as Ginny produced a handkerchief and attempted to reassure her. "You need not wed McLaggen, my dear," Ginny mused. "Would it suffice for you to have another suitor to ask for your hand?" She sent a meaningful glance to Ronald, who blushed furiously and proceeded to look down at his hands thoughtfully.

"Yes," muttered Hermione when she had finished wiping away her tears. "But as Father bluntly pointed out, most of the eligible men are wed. I have waited long enough."

"I see. Fret not, darling," cooed Ginny. "You shall marry a man and we can try to ensure that the match is not devoid of sentiment."

"Thank you," murmured Hermione.

The carriage came to a stop and the men got out first in order to help their female counterparts. Ginny leaned on Harry's arm and Ronald offered his to Hermione before they fell into step behind the Duke and Duchess.

The Theatre was a beautiful Victorian building, and the all of the staff were falling over themselves to help the new arrivals. Harry politely gave their tickets to the Concierge who personally escorted them to the box next to that of the Royal Box which for tonight, given another engagement for the Royal Family, was empty. Harry poured some _Vin de Champagne Brut_ for them and Hermione studied the pamphlet describing the upcoming performance. Ronald picked up the tiny, golden binoculars which were always left for their use and began nosily scanning the other boxes, commenting all the way.

"Oh, look, Count and Countess Lupin are here, and Lord Longbottom has come with Lady Hannah Abbott. I have heard that the young lady accepted his proposal of marriage. It must be true if they are together. Oh and is that the Scamander's I see? His grandmother works for you, I believe, Lady Granger? Well, I didn't know they were back in London, I thought they were still in Spain for the honeymoon. Oh, bloody hell!"

The ladies in the box jumped and Harry tutted loudly, eyeing Ronald warily.

"Sir," hissed Hermione through her teeth. "Please, watch your language! The Duchess and I will not tolerate such behaviour and foul language!"

Ronald turned around and replied "I beg your pardon, Duchess and Milady. But, you see, I had good reason."

Ginny rolled her eyes and snatched the binoculars away. When her brother glared, she said airily, "I am pregnant, and cannot therefore be held responsible for any rude behaviour on my part." She examined the room but it wasn't long before her eyebrows shot up in disbelief and she cursed lowly. Hermione's ears reddened and she scolded,

"Duchess, I'm surprised at you! Where have you learned such speech?"

"I have grown up with six elder brothers, if you had lived in my house you would have the same colourful vocabulary I do," shrugged Ginny. "If you must know, Draco Malfoy, the Duke of Wiltshire and his party have just entered the box on the other side of the Royal Box."

Hermione gritted her teeth.

"Well, I hope he will stay away from us tonight. I do not wish to hex him. I would be kicked out of the theatre," she replied airily before taking her own binoculars and turning to the box in question.

Draco Malfoy, a Duke in his own right without his father's title, was one of the few things that had made her years at Hogwarts difficult. The only son of the extremely rich, powerful and evil Duke of the Manor, Lucius Malfoy and his beautiful but deadly Duchess Narcissa Malfoy; Draco Malfoy was the only heir to a vast fortune and title that came with the Malfoy estate. It was a source of great amusement for Draco that he could be a Duke of an entirely separate estate while his father was still alive and he never ceased to comment on the fact to those less fortunate than himself.

Draco was, unfortunately, spoilt rotten and had many well known flaws. He was nasty, haughty and conceited. His family was well known to dabble in the Dark Arts so it had been no surprise when they had taken Voldemort's side during the war. He was, of course, one of the conservative nobles who thought that Hermione and others who had become powerful through hard work and not inheritance, had absolutely no place in a world that he inhabited.

Hermione knew that he despised her for her own personality, for being the granddaughter of a lowly apothecary and of course for having attended Hogwarts in the first place. He saw her as little more than an upstart, a nouveau riche, a social climber and therefore unimportant. He was always with a group of friends who all wasted no time in agreeing with Draco and reminding Hermione at every turn of what she was.

Not that he liked her friends, either. He hated the Weasley family, who, though Purebloods, were considered by people such as himself as blood traitors by mixing with Mudbloods of Hermione's calibre. Harry was in Draco's bad books, too, being the hero of this world and the killer of Voldemort. Both of them had been competing since childhood and all through Hogwarts. However, Harry was still the only person in the box that Draco could have found a sliver of respect for if he had wanted to.

If she must be honest, Hermione would have admitted that Draco had certain amiable qualities too. He was, for a start, extremely clever, having been hot on her heels in the race towards the honour of becoming Valedictorian every year. He had almost bested her once or twice and Hermione sometimes wondered if he hated her more because of this than for her blood. He was cunning, too, smooth and charming; enough to have people eating out of the palm of his hand if he wanted. He could make others do his bidding without much expenditure of effort; like a Master Puppet who would pull the strings of his toys to make them dance.

Most of all, the reason he held the gaze of every woman in that theatre when he strode purposefully into the box, his posture straight and his face composed into a look of power, was the fact that he was the most handsome man in the room by a mile.

Draco possessed beautifully and almost translucently pale skin. He had aristocratic features, with a set of pale, thin lips, often curved up into a smirk, a straight nose, and a carved, sculpted figure that most likened to Adonis. His hands were slender but still held the unmistakable look of being deadly.

His blonde, trademark Malfoy, hair was the silkiest Hermione had never seen, and would ever see. It made him stand out in a crowd. It was his eyes that captured women's hearts and men's envy. They were a mix of Lucius' steel grey and Narcissa's sky blue. Essentially grey, of a stormy, cold, steel colour. She had noticed that they would change depending on his mood and they served as a good mood indicator: blue when happy to hard grey when furious. She had often wondered what they would look like with more complex emotions, like love. If someone like Draco could even feel love that was.

She loathed him too much to even think of falling for him; there was just too much bad blood between them. But, Hermione admitted with defeat when it came to admitting that the man was stunning. Draco left a trail of unhappy men behind him in his seduction of beautiful women, who always seemed like mere trophies to Hermione, but his reputation for duelling being second to none meant that more often than not he got away with everything he did.

However, those who had been stupid enough to cross him had paid the ultimate price. The story of one deceived husband was infamous; he managed to throw one light curse Draco's way and in response Draco had thrown the woman in question to one side, having beaten her husband, and then proceeded to strip them of all of their possessions as compensation.

Hermione saw him, magnificent in a silver-grey costume with hunter green linings make room for the ladies to sit comfortably. She recognised Theodore Nott III Earl of Allthrop who was helping his young wife, Countess of Allthrop Pansy Nott née Parkinson, to sit down her slender figure cutting the shape of a freshly delivered woman.

Malfoy, with impeccable manners, helped his partner to sit in her plush red cushioned seat. Hermione did not recognise her but she was a stunning beauty with black hair, gorgeous emerald eyes sparkling in the candle light, with skin as translucent as Malfoy's. She was dressed to match the Duke's clothing. Hermione wondered if they were betrothed. In any case, their choice of dressing and the way they sat turned towards each other indicated that they were close; _very_ close.

Hermione pursed her lips and turned to her own friends, "I wonder who is Malfoy's partner?"

Ginny glanced at her and replied, "You don't know? Her older sister, Daphne Greengrass, was in your year at Hogwarts. As it happens, that one was two years behind us; that is Astoria Greengrass. I have heard that she is now eligible for marriage since Lady Daphne became Marquess of the Crabbe estate."

Ginny leaned forward and added in a disgusted voice, "Of course, the Greengrass's are Purebloods of the same vein as the Malfoys. I should not be surprised if Draco Malfoy was to marry her. Lover of the Dark Arts, Voldemort supporter, cold and Pureblooded...what more does he need? She'll be a trophy."

Hermione slowly nodded and replied, "They are wearing the same dress colours."

Ginny nodded herself and responded seriously, "That says much of what is happening between them. The Malfoy estate is too serious to let the precious son and heir go strutting around allowing any old nobody to wear the same colours. No, only a fiancée would do in that respect, the Malfoy's are nothing if not proper. I assume that it is not done yet, or we would all have heard of it."

The room was plunged in darkness suddenly as the stage lit up, and the curtain came up under the frenzied applause. Fleur Delacour was playing Auriga and nobody could have played the role better. Fleur was a splendid blonde woman that gave serious competition even to a natural beauty like Astoria Greengrass.

"Quarter Veela," muttered Ginny in Hermione's ear as they sat entranced. "Fleur is said to be one of the most sensuous women of Paris. She has come to conquer Britain. Women shall be trembling in fear to avoid their men be taken away from them."

"If so," replied Hermione, "Lady Astoria should be the first woman in the country to be afraid. She has the most handsome, if the most horrible, fiancé."

Halfway through the show, the curtain fell back down and lights came on again for the interval. Harry stretched and offered his hand to his wife as Ronald helped Hermione up.

"We must go and mingle with our acquaintances in the audience," declared Harry, "I must speak with Lord Remus and Lady Nymphadora."

"And we must offer our compliments to Lord Neville and Lady Hannah for their union-to-be," reminded Hermione.

She and Harry opened the way towards the refreshment hall. The big, marble room was full when they arrived, and they made a bee-line towards the Lupins.

"Lord Remus," greeted Harry, bowing, "and the lovely Lady Nymphadora, or should I say Lady Tonks." He whispered the last conspiratorially.

"My Lord," giggled Nymphadora Lupin, clearly enjoying the joke, while Harry bent to kiss her hand. "Such a pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine. How is my godson, the young Lord Teddy?"

"Growing steadily," replied Remus, turning to salute the others. "His wet nurse is already running out of milk. My Lady Ginevra, such a pleasure to see you as always. Sir Ronald, Lady Hermione. It has been a long time, Milady. How do your parents?"

"Very well, very well indeed, my Lord. I am very happy to see you and your lovely wife."

After they had mixed their way through the crowd slowly, the announcer declared that the performance would start in ten minutes. Hermione blanched upon seeing a familiar figure nervously pacing in front of the Royal box door as they made their way back. The four of them stopped, thus blocking the corridor.

"My Lord," said Cormac McLaggen, bending low in Harry's direction before turning to Ginny, "my Lady. It is a great pleasure to meet you again after all this time and to see you in such good health."

"It is, Lord," replied Harry evenly, as the tension mounted slowly but surely. "You are doing well, I trust. You know our friends?"

"Yes of course, the honourable Ronald Weasley," Cormac replied with a hint of scorn. "How do your family?" Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Hermione and his expression immediately changed. "It is wonderful to see you Lady Granger; I had the pleasure of seeing your father this morning."

He kissed Hermione's gloved hand, and continued to hold it long enough for the gesture to be anything but innocent. Ginny cleared her throat in annoyance and Hermione mentally thanked her best female friend.

"To what do we owe the..._pleasure_, Earl Mclaggen?" Ron asked coolly and Hermione's heart fluttered in her chest at his tone, knowing that he was sticking up for her. "I did not know that you would be attending the Royal Theatre tonight?"

Cormac cast him a steady glance, finally removing Hermione's hand from his grip.

"That is not surprising, Milord, since I _do_ employ a secretary to organise my always full social calendar," he needled knowing how it would irk Ronald. "I wished to speak to Lady Hermione."

"I'm listening. Please speak, my Lord," replied Hermione before Ronald could utter a scathing remark.

"I was hoping to talk to you alone, if you would grant me an audience?"

"I do not believe that would be possible, Milord," she answered in a freezing voice. "The Duke and Duchess here are charged with my protection tonight and I could not avoid a scandal should I be seen leaving their company."

Cormac seemed furious and looked for a moment as if he wanted to answer heatedly but managed to force a smile, "I see. Well, then, Milady, you must know what I discussed with your father only this morning?"

"This morning, if I remember well, you came to the estate to ask for my hand. I was not available to see you, but you did not ask for me. You came, gave your message and left. Which is why I am wondering what you desire of me now?"

He seemed taken aback, but responded, "Indeed, I had other matters to attend to. I was dearly wishing, though, to see you, Milady, and hoped to meet you here tonight. I would like to know if you have a mind to accept my proposal?"

Hermione could see what it cost him to say this in front of the others. It was scandalous to discuss such private matters in such a public arena. He should have had the common sense to wait and speak to her at her own home.

The four others sucked in scandalised breaths and Hermione couldn't keep her angry answer back. "That was too forward for a gentleman! Such matters are not to be discussed in the middle of a theatre corridor, and with my friends' company! If you desired to ask such a rude question you should have called upon me in the morning. As it is, I will not answer; you are _rude_ to presume to push me into a response right now".

"As Granger just said, and as you are obviously too dim-witted to realise, McLaggen, we are in the middle of a corridor," said a cold voice that cut into the conversation with obvious disdain, "and _we_ would very much like to reach our box, before the performance ends. Why don't you have your little drama somewhere else? Seeing as I, personally, do not want to get sick right here in the corridor."

The five of them froze as Hermione felt her heart sink. She knew that voice all too well. Slowly, the young woman spun on her heel and glared up into the face of Draco Malfoy, Duke of Wiltshire.

**...**

**Thank you for reading.**

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**See you soon!**

**DIL.**


	3. Chapter 3

At his utterance, the five onlookers turned to one very regal and _very_ annoyed looking Draco Malfoy. He surveyed them all coolly while Lady Astoria tightened her grip on his arm possessively. Standing directly behind the couple were the Notts, looking just as displeased.

Viscount McLaggen straightened his shoulders and glared at the cool appraising stare of Draco Malfoy.

"You shall address her with her full title, my Lord," he started in a low, menacing voice, "Lady Hermione Granger of Hogsmeade. As a Duke, I would have thought you knew such protocol and I would certainly expect you to adhere to it".

"And as a very _conservative_ admirer of such protocol," returned Malfoy in a lethal tone, removing Astoria's arm as he spoke and squaring up to McLaggen, "I wish myself to be addressed by my full title, Viscount McLaggen. I _am_ the Duke of Wiltshire, and you shall respect my position if you wish to remain out of jail and in full possession of all your family heirlooms."

He smirked knowingly before finishing, "As it stands, it is you who is blocking the way to our box and if you would like to keep that face unbroken, I would move." Malfoy's eyes flashed angrily as he spoke.

Cormac looked ready to burst, his face growing redder by the second, but Hermione stepped next to him and placed a reassuring hand on his arm: "Please, Viscount. Though I appreciate your defence of my person please refrain from saying anything more. It would not be worth it. _He_ would not be worth it."

"I have not finished speaking with you," Viscount McLaggen stressed turning to Hermione.

Hermione dropped her arm and looked nervously about her as everyone stared, waiting for her reply.

"I pray you to leave it for tonight. Now that you know I shall not discuss these things in public there can be nothing more to say. Good evening, Milord."

With such a hint uttered the Viscount shot one last nasty glare in Malfoy's direction before leaving the corridor. The group of eight stayed to glare at each other another moment before Harry finally said,"I think that shall be enough for this evening."

"For once, Potter, you actually managed to say something intelligent. May I congratulate you," drawled Malfoy, bowing mockingly to him and once again taking Astoria's arm.

Ron cut in snippily: "From someone like you, Malfoy, I find it abhorrent that you would say such a thing seeing as the greater part of what has left your mouth in your entire life has been bullshit about blood supremacy and Dark magic."

The four ladies inhaled sharply at the curse but Malfoy, unfazed, merely rolled his eyes: "Be careful, Weasley. You might have been born and raised in a disgusting hole in the ground but may I remind you that Lady Astoria and Lady Pansy have not. They do not need to be exposed to your depravity."

Ronald blushed but the Duke continued, "Then again it is not surprising. What I myself find curious is the fact that someone else seems to have taken an interest in your..." He sniffed tauntingly at the air. "Mudblood."

Ginny gasped, Harry produced his wand at the same time as Ron, the action instantly mirrored by Malfoy and Nott. Astoria smirked nastily towards Hermione who had paled considerably while Pansy nibbled her lip to prevent herself from laughing.

Hermione's hand slowly brought down Ron's wand before any hexes could fly: "Don't, Milord, please," she muttered, before turning to Malfoy and in a deadly voice declaring: "I fail to see what you find curious about that, but on the same tone, I wonder at the Malfoy estate allowing your partner to wear your colours, as you do not appear to be affianced, and since we all know you are obsessed with protocol..."

She trailed off smirking but the implication that Malfoy had forgotten his own rules remained, the insult was subtle; it hit home spectacularly. This time, Ginny bit back a giggle, Astoria let out an insulted gasp and Pansy blanched. After all, Hermione had essentially implied that Lady Astoria was Malfoy's mistress.

"Take that back, Granger," growled Malfoy.

"Take back the 'M' word," cast back Hermione, staring him down.

"Never," he said belligerently.

"Then you have your answer, Malfoy."

She slipped, head high into her box and her friends followed. Once there, Ginny let out the laughter she had been struggling to hold back: "By Merlin, that was grand Hermione!"

"I do hope Father does not hear of that. He would punish me to my room until I am thirty!"

.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully but the succeeding four days hurried by. Hermione was desperate: her parents eagerly awaited her answer to the Viscount while Lord Ronald had yet to propose. On the fourth day, unable to sit still any longer or listen to her parents' protestations, she found herself hurrying off to the Potters finding Ginny in the little parlour.

"Oh! Hermione dear, I have the most exciting news and gossip," squealed Ginny, setting down her newspaper upon seeing her best friend.

"I want to talk to you, Milady," Hermione answered nervously, sitting daintily opposite her friend. "Where is Harry?"

"He has gone hunting with the Lords Thomas and Finnegan and several of my brothers. We shall not be disturbed."

She called for tea and cake to a house elf, Dobby, and they sat back before Ginny prompted: "So, what is bothering you?"

"Ginny, listen. The Viscount is starting to wonder if I really am interested and I myself am starting to think that your brother may never ask for my hand!"

Ginny hummed in delight: "So, you finally admit that you want to marry my brother, do you?"

"Please Ginny, it has never been a big secret!"

"Well, everyone shall be happy about it. My mother will never shut up."

"Back to the point, please," said Hermione sighing, "When do you think Ron shall ask? If ever?"

"Well," muttered Ginny, "he does love you. The only problem is that even if it was written in bright pink and held by a Veela right under his nose, I doubt he would understand the urgency of your situation. The only thing for it, my darling, is to be blunt."

"You mean I should _ask_ him to propose?" Hermione paused before sagging back into the pillows, "How strange and very...exotic of you to suggest such a thing."

"Yes, well, it _is_ Ron. All cleverness forgot to hit its target when he was born and came straight to the next born child in the family. Me."

Hermione rolled her eyes and didn't even reply. Instead, she pondered quietly to herself before muttering, "I must see him then, if I am to tell him to propose..."

"Do not trouble yourself," interrupted Ginny, sipping her tea. "I will tell him to do it. The Longbottoms are hosting the Annual Charity Ball next week, yes?"

"Indeed."

"He will have asked your father by that date, and will propose to you on the day of the Ball. It shall be romantic and everything that it should be, and you will not have to say anything to him. I am looking forward to opening the rounds of applause."

The conversation settled and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, knowing how lucky she was to being always able to count on her friend.

.

The Longbottom's Annual Charity Ball was always a successful event. The elderly Dowager, Augusta Longbottom was renowned for her charitable ways and passion for her faith and as a result, was very close to the King and Queen.

It was as if they had given Lady Augusta the role of chairperson in all of the charitable institutions that covered religion, poverty and the general wellbeing of the Kingdom's people. It was a fund-raising ball, with an expensive entry and a compulsory raffle. Even the Royal couple themselves attended, but as they had so many other engagements, they rarely stayed past the opening of the ball itself.

There was another reason for the large attendance this year however. Neville, her heir, had recently become engaged to the lovely Hannah Abbott and people were extremely curious to see how the young lady would act at her first official event.

As it was, Hermione was thoroughly enjoying a very good evening. She had been saluted in person by King Cornelius and Queen Amelia, along with a few other selected people and had danced with Ronald, Harry, and several other nice young men. Viscount McLaggen was not even there, which gave her every reason to relax. Everything was going perfectly.

Hermione won a pretty pink diamond during the raffle which she immediately donated to the cause, making Augusta smile one of her rare smiles.

At the end of the raffle, Lady Augusta personally announced: "I have received quite the curious demand, and have decided to grant it. This is, after all, a night of celebration. Lady Hermione Granger, please show yourself."

Blushing, Hermione stood forward amidst the mutterings and speculation of the crowd while Augusta smiled knowingly, "On with your surprise, Milord."

She remained where she was, her breath shallow, and watched with surprise as Lord Ronald walked slowly and nervously up to her. The crowd gasped as he suddenly bent down on one knee and produced a beautiful golden ring with a ruby encased between two smaller diamonds on top.

He coughed, "Hermione...sorry, I mean, Lady Hermione Granger, would you grant me the extreme honour of accepting my hand and becoming my wife?"

She held back a sob and whispered in what appeared to be a loud way in the deafening silence, "Yes."

The crowd whooped and cheered and Hermione let a few tears fall as Ron shakily slipped the ring on.

A sharp, high pitched and unexpected scream cut the noise.

A shaking, white and furious Lady Lavender Brown stomped up to the happy couple pointing a pale finger on Lord Ronald: "How dare you!" she howled. "How dare you go back on your word!"

Ron seemed extremely self-conscious and the crowd shushed, revelling in the drama that was unfolding.

"I hate you," spat Lavender. "Both of you! How dare you..."

Lady Augusta's voice shut her up. "Now Lady Brown, would you please be kind enough to enlighten us with the meaning of this interruption?"

"Oh, I will, Dowager," screamed Lavender. "You see, Lord Ronald and his parents, signed a marriage contract with me and my parents not four months ago. We are to be married and here he is, asking to wed that..."

"Do you mean," asked Augusta in a brisk, no-nonsense tone, "that you are the fiancée of Lord Weasley?"

"I am," she affirmed. "Our agreement was not yet public, as it is _well_ known that Ronald is the actual lover of one infamous Fleur Delacour!"

The silence was deafening. The gossip was not new to the masses, but to Hermione, it _was_ brand new information. The fact that Lavender was so angry that she would deliberately reveal such shameful information in front of a crowd of people signified the extent of her upset.

Hermione couldn't breath.

"We were waiting for Miss Delacour to leave the country in a few weeks, to give the scandal time to die down," fumed Lavender, "and here he is, playing innocent and trying to wed Lady Granger, while I have to embarrass myself in order to reveal the truth of his character!"

"A contract can always be broken," hissed Ron lowly but the audience heard and declared in an uproar of outrage.

However, Lavender, in tears now, screeched above the noise: "It shall not be, Ronald, because if you want even more scandal I shall grant it to you! You have, after all, sullied the poor maiden that I am, have you not? I am _pregnant_!"

Hermione had long ago let go of Ron's hand, but she took a step back at that. She stared at Ron, willing him to give her a glance that would mean none of this was true. He moved his eyes to the floor and it was all the affirmation she needed.

She slid the band off and dropped it at Ronald's feet before taking three steps back to avoid his stretching hand. Ignoring everyone, she turned and dashed for the doors, bursting out into the Longbottom's tremendous garden, running and running still.

Somewhere in the thunderstruck crowd, one Lady Astoria Greengrass turned an amused and smug gaze upon her Lord, Draco Malfoy.

"Well," she drawled, "that was so very funny. I am greatly amused indeed."

Draco kissed her knuckles and retorted, "As am I, dear. Now, if you may, I must attend shortly to something. Why don't you speak about this strange affair with Lady Pansy Nott? After all, the gossip is fresh just the way you like it."

Astoria nodded gleefully and curtsied before striding off happily. Draco himself wandered innocently off towards the doors and slipped out into the gardens.

.

Hermione cradled her head in her arms, resting it on a cold stone bench, having collapsed in a heap on the ground hidden within a ring of rose bushes, uncaring about sullying her red dress.

She could not believe what had just happened.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" drawled a lazy voice behind her.

Her head snapped up and she turned, gasping, to witness one very happy Draco Malfoy leaning against a tree, unfazed, twirling his wand carelessly between his fingers.

She shuddered and attempted to send an angry look in his direction but failed miserably as the tears continued to fall.

"With all the meagre respect I may show you Malfoy, I demand that you piss off for once and leave me be," she snarled, no longer caring about protocol and ladylike manners.

Malfoy seemed surprised but chuckled merrily.

"Don't worry, Granger. I only came to thank you for the show that Brown, Weasley and yourself just put on. My fiancée-to-be was extremely diverted."

She stood, shaking with sorrow, shock, hurt and fury before snapping back, "I told you to go, Malfoy. I care not about Greengrass and neither do I care about you. I hate you. Just go away and leave me alone."

"Looks like you'll have to accept the McLaggen idiot now," he replied gleefully. "Poor thing, I guess you did not know that Weasley was bedding Delacour, although you must have been the last person to find out; I'm sure ever his family knew, including your precious Ginny. I also assume you don't know what pushed McLaggen to hurry and ask for you do you, Granger?"

Her curiosity finally rivalled her anger and she retorted hotly, "Either you tell me Malfoy, or not, I do not mind. But in any case hurry up and get to the point."

He tsked and looked her over before turning his back on her and humming into the night, "You see, McLaggen is going to have a rather unfortunate duel with a very angry Duke that shall remain nameless. As it happens, the Viscount raped his daughter. So now, he is going to marry you to clear his name, because after all, if he is to wed he must be a respectable man. I wonder, how do you think he'll treat you?"

Draco smirked softly and with that left Hermione standing in dumbstruck silence, her entire world crumbling to pieces around her.


End file.
